Blasphemous

by Ann, Pamela

  We were addicted to each other. Even when she’s sleeping, her body was prepped for my benefit. Memories of waking up with Emma riding me made my cock twitch in anticipation. We both were insatiable and I loved that she matched my passionate nature. We always woke each other up this way.

  Undoing my jeans, I thought of how to enter her. Stripped from my clothes, my hand stroked my shaft as my heart hammered in anticipation in claiming her body again.

  Joining her in bed, I bent over her parted thighs and struck out my greedy tongue to taste her ambrosia. She simply tasted like my drug, my gateway to Heaven. I ate her with gusto, swirling my tongue around her wet opening before licking her all the way back up and down her anal hole. I lingered there for a bit before returning to the dripping channel. Foreplay was my key to dominating and annihilating her ripened womanhood. She was past ready for my onslaught, too.

  Hovering above her as I positioned myself, I gripped my cock and smacked her nub a few times before rubbing it back and forth to wet the mushroomed head of my dick. “Emma… just be fucking mine.” I groaned out as my steel length slowly pushed inside her wetness, cloaking it with little room to breathe, suctioning it with sharp, pleasurable, mind-numbing precision.

  Pushing deeper into her core, it welcomed me home without resistance. I was lost in the tightness of her as my body trembled, demanding more. Once it pressed against her womb, her vaginal muscles tightened around my length. I had to pause, cussing out, to relax for a second before resuming the pleasure her body bestowed on me. After a few controlled breaths, I held her waist and started to roll my hips in and out of her, opening her more to accommodate my entire length. She still hurt from time to time, but she never stopped me because Emma—though she may seem sweet at first glance—actually craved rough, hardcore pounding. Her confessing that crucial tidbit truly was the sexiest thing for me.

  My lips sought her neck, knowing how sensitive she was there. I usually woke her up this way. The way her wall gripped my cock, I knew she was waking up. “Bass, you hurt me so good,” she moaned in a sexy whisper.

  “How good do you want it?”

  She was awake but her lids were still shut, wanting to be asleep, but wanting me to carry on doing her body as well. “Rough. Give it to me rough. It’s been so long. I’ve missed you.”

  I’ve missed all of you, too, I miserably thought as my cock pummeled her without restraint. All my anger, frustration, hate, sadness, and my love for her were channeled through my thrusts, venting out everything I’ve kept inside me.

  Her walls were crushing my cock intensely, readying for her release. I growled her name as my hand reached for her clit, rubbing it until she cried out of her orgasm. “Bass…”

  Shifting position as she mindlessly writhed on my cock, I was on my knees while my hands gripped her full breasts, using it to hammer us both into guileless oblivion. After coming what seemed like a full minute, I eased myself off her and rolled onto my back, panting like a rabid animal.

  Emma, as always, went back to sleep.

  Even after the mind-blowing sex, I was left unsatisfied. Giving in to my heart’s desire, I finally reached out and pulled her sleeping body next to mine. My nose sought the nook of her neck, smelling her scent. “Fuck, I’ve missed you,” I admitted loudly, knowing she couldn’t hear me.

  Holding her like this made me feel a little guilty. Was I too harsh with her? Possibly, but after seeing those pictures, I was consumed by rage that I hadn’t known before. It felt like it was the kind where people act and do stupid things, like wanting to kill Carter. That son of gun reminded me of a snake. After what he did to Emma, embarrassing her that way, was truly despicable. What man acted like that when your girlfriend tells you that she might be pregnant and then, the minute you knew she wasn’t, you leave and engage yourself in an orgy?

  Well, I learned that tidbit by accident.

  One Saturday morning, I heard Lindsey and Trista talking about it. Prying on other people’s business was something I never did, but when it concerned Emma and our relationship, I needed to.

  I had nothing against orgies. Hell, I had my fair share and enjoyed them greatly, but I did all that debauchery when I was single. If Emma had chosen me instead of Carter, she would’ve never gone through that humiliating ordeal. After all that experience, months later, the snake still had a weird hold of her.

  I was more than baffled because Carter held the key to my happiness and I hated how I couldn’t hold that until he was out of the picture. I had done everything I could to make her happy. Even if she declared that she loved me more, I was beyond rattled that she had love left for Carter. Emma clearly had a fickle heart. It was volleying back and forth without proper direction.

  Having her sleep in my arms like this made it all worthwhile, but when she’s not around, I constantly worry that she was going to leave me. Emma chose him over me once, it could happen again. However, I was too emotionally invested this time around, compared to last year. This time, I was in love.

  I had to give it another try because I didn’t want to have any regrets later down the road. Not to mention, how difficult it was to go on another day without her. I missed Emma, but I needed to calm down first before I approached the subject with her.

  I needed a few more days to emotionally prepare myself to be with her again. Sighing, I submitted to sleep.

  Chapter 6

  “Missing the one you love is a sickness that kills you every minute over and over again.”

  -Dianne Grace

  Emma

  I was almost sure that Bass slept next to me last night, but when I woke up, I was disappointed to find him gone. Apart from the dent on the pillow next to mine and the soreness in between my thighs, there wasn’t much sign of him spending any time here.

  For the next few days, we hadn’t spoken, except during filming and that’s only when necessary. It was a slim chance, but what little hope I had left that he’d at least thaw out and give us another try was crushed as the days went by.

  I’m sure he came home to change and shower because, when I saw him during set, he had different clothes on, but I never saw him around. I was lonely, depressed and didn’t have anyone to talk to. Without Bass, I realized that I didn’t really have that many friends around here, well, apart from Ants and Dimitris, there really wasn’t anyone.

  When I woke up on Saturday, the urge to cry again was too tempting. I didn’t eat much since that picnic with Bass. It was sad, but food reminded me of him and I always ended up crying on my food instead of eating it.

  So, what does a woman do when it’s the weekend with no one around? Watch a depressing movie with tubs of ice cream, of course.

  Here I was, halfway through my Butter Pecan Haagen-Dasz ice cream with A Walk To Remember on my laptop, crying just because I felt like crying. It seemed that shedding tears was the only thing my body knew how to do lately. See a sunrise? Cry. See a slice of lemon? Cry again. See a BLT? Cry some more. See Bass talk to a woman who was flirting with him? Slit my throat, please. Okay, maybe not that overboard, but it sure felt like it.

  I was so deep in my I’m-so-depressed-I-think-I-need-Dr. Phil-any-day-now that I didn’t hear someone come in the cottage, until I heard a voice call me out.

  “Emma?”

  “Holy shit!” I jumped from the couch, making the ice cream from my spoon fly off, leaving the cold treat on my chin and my shirt.

  If it were a normal day, Dimitris would’ve laughed this off, but the look on his face told me how pathetic I looked. Those glow in the dark eyes looked sorry and sad as he gazed over me; empathizing almost. “I was in Athens since last night, but something made me come back here. I guess, I remembered how deserted this place was when I left the night before. I don’t know if you’re aware, but one of the guys rented out a yacht for the weekend.”

  Yacht parties. Island hopping. One fucking yacht with a drunken Bass surrounded with women. I think I was about to have a nervous breakdown. I was about to start crying ag
ain when Dimitris broke into my haze.

  “Pack a bag and bring your passport with you. I’m taking you to Paris with me. I can’t stand looking at you, Emma. This is getting ridiculous.”

  Paris? I just stared at him like he was talking gibberish.

  “I said, pack a fucking bag. NOW!” he thundered out.

  “Did you just cuss at me?” I whispered with bewilderment. This was the first time I had heard him cuss, let alone having him direct it towards me.

  Dimitris placed both of his hands on his hips, clearly about to lose his patience. “Yes! Get going or do you want me to do it for you? You have an appointment with Lander in four and half hours. With the flight duration and Paris traffic on a Saturday, we can’t afford for you to be late.”

  Well, what the hell? Who was Lander? And Paris, right now? I was definitely sold. Paris was a better place to drown myself in. Not to mention, they probably have better ice cream to swim along in my misery. “Give me ten!” I called out, walking towards my room in haste.

  Exactly ten minutes later, I was walking out the door with Dimitris holding my weekend bag. I wore a baroque, lace-corset top dress that ended mid-thigh. The lower part of the dress was made out of satin organza, making it look fun and chic without trying too hard. Pair it with mint-colored, strappy, platform sandals; large, angular, designer shades; and my limp hair pulled into a loose bun, I looked like a normal woman in Paris.

  My depressing thoughts and breakdowns, I had to keep indoors. If I really was serious about pursuing an acting career, then I had to learn how to act in public, even if I wasn’t on set. This was my first try and I hoped I was going to do fine.

  Dimitris and I didn’t speak during the helicopter ride to Athens. When he maneuvered us into a private airstrip, I wasn’t even surprised to find a gulfstream jet waiting for us. Dimitris was a Kosta. Kosta’s were an affluent family in Greece. His last name alone carried so much recognition and history of a time before Greece was even born.

  Heck, beyond my great-grandparents, I had no clue where to go with my family tree from there. It must be overwhelming to be in Dimitris’s shoes. I didn’t blame him for rebelling and doing his own thing, but, I guess, his time was up since rumors were swirling that he was shadowing his father after this movie. It was to be his last, I heard.

  We were on the cream seats, buckled up and thousands of feet up in the air, opposite each other, when he decided to break our silence. “I know it hurts to be the one left behind, but you can’t let this win you over, Emma.”

  Pressing my lips together, I glanced out the window, watching the thin veil of clouds as I tried to suppress the thought of Bass on that damn yacht. “Is that what you’re doing? Do you think it really works?” I didn’t need to reference Lindsey’s name for him to know what I was talking about.

  “No, it doesn’t,” he said, making me glance at him, surprised at his blatant honesty. “But thinking it makes me get out of bed and do what I have to do. You get so used to pretending that you’re okay… that sometimes you forget what it was like before it happened.”

  There’s truth for you, Emma. The way he said it made me more depressed, if it were even possible to go deeper than I already was. We were both sad, rejected people. “You really loved her, didn’t you?”

  “It doesn’t matter. There’s no point in rehashing everything over someone that didn’t hold me in the same regard. A man has to move on, meet women, and have sex until you can’t remember her face anymore.”

  I was about to say something when he excused himself to pick up the jet’s ringing phone.

  Have sex with another man other than Bass? The thought made me dizzy. Carter, who I still cared about, couldn’t even get a kiss from me—that hazy kiss didn’t count. How the heck did I even begin rebooting myself to be single again?

  Bass was single. I’m sure that man didn’t have any qualms moving on. The last time we had sex, I think it was his way of saying goodbye to me, but I took it more of a wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am sex. I sure as hell knew that his weekend was filled with tons of whamming and bamming, too.

  It was a bitter pill to swallow, but it was the truth. If he could easily put me behind him, then shouldn’t I at least try to see if I could do it, too?

  ~E~

  Lander was a crazy, eccentric, melodramatic, beautiful, Nazi of a gay man that didn’t seem too keen or too happy about what any of his assistants did to beautify me.

  After being thoroughly washed with rose water, having masks and peels, being pricked and plucked, scrubbed down, waxed and polished with Dead Sea salt, honey, milk and rubbed with oranges, I was sure the only hair I had left were my eyebrows and the hair on my head.

  Imagine my shock when I came out with my robe and Lander tsked me, hastily untied the robe and felt the texture on my back. “Non!” he barked out, monster green eyes coming out of their sockets, at the unflinching, well-poised, brunette assistant.

  I stood there, thinking, What the fuck did I get myself into this time? before I was ushered back inside the bedroom until my back was silky smooth.

  Piled up hair? Non.

  Coral nail varnish? Non!

  Dark make-up? Non, non, non!

  All I could hear was different crescendos of non.

  He then spit out a sporadic string of French that left me so utterly, fucking clueless about what the heck was going on.

  Everything had to be back to square one. Cleansed, creamed, primed and finished. By the third try, I made a pact to myself that if he was going to reject it again, I was walking out of that door.

  The sigh of relief when I didn’t hear the word non was music to my irritated ears.

  “Ooh la la! You look magnifique, oui?” Lander appeared behind me. The slight twitch of his lip was the only indication that I could think of, that showed he was pleased.

  He kissed both of my cheeks and bid me goodnight. With a sharp snap of his fingers, the three assistants followed him out and left me staring at the closed door.

  I was still in a Lander daze, trying to figure him out, when a soft knock on my door and a dashing Dimitris appeared. He eyed me with approval, grinning. “Lander never disappoints just as my mother promised.”

  Really? Lander terrified me hardcore. “If you take me back to that man again, I will murder you in your sleep.”

  He laughed. “Lander comes highly recommended. I thought you needed his direct approach kind of therapy.”

  Hah. The whole time I was with the green-eyed monster, Bass didn’t even pop anywhere inside my head because I was too freaked out with Lander. “Well, I guess, it worked,” I admitted, smiling before I started laughing like a loony with him.

  “Look at yourself, Emma. Can you see any traces of the woman who was crying out in pain with ice cream to soothe it six hours ago?”

  My hair was straightened out with a soft curve in the end. The right front side had the whole nineteen-twenty's wave. The black, silk-topped, mini frock paired with nude, four-inch, strappy stilettos made my legs look like they could go on forever. The winged, black liner on my lids and the matte, scarlet red lips made me look mysterious. The hours I spent on the beach paid off with a great tan, but the maddening way Lander had my skin polished gave me a luminous glow that I had never had before. “No.” I looked really good. Classy. Chic. Elegant. Composed and in my element.

  “They say beauty is only skin deep, but what they don’t understand is that beautifying helps heal and conceal scars. By making yourself beautiful, you start feeling beautiful. After all, true beauty comes from within. This is my mother’s way of beauty therapy and I’m happy that it worked for you, too. For years, I thought she was full of it each time she made an excuse for this said therapy, but I guess mothers know best, ne?”

  “Your mother sounds like my kind of woman. I bet she’s amazing!” Smiling as I glanced at him.

  “She is. My mother has a passionate nature. My father thought it too passionate at times. She has a flare for dramatics, but they work great
together.” He looked thoughtful a moment, as if picturing his parents in his mind. By the way he smiled it was obvious that his parents were happy together.

  “I know this might sound stupid and a few hours delayed since we’re already here, but I’ve been wondering… why are we in Paris?” I was too caught up in my own head that I hadn’t asked questions when he decided to bring me to another country.

  I was that distracted with Bass.

  “We’re having a celebratory party for one of my good friends. Are you familiar with car racing? Formula One?”

  Racing? “Um, no, not really familiar with that. Though I know what it is, I didn’t find it all that interesting.”

  “Please, I would love to see the men’s faces when you say that.” Dimitris laughed as he ushered us out the door and headed to dine at some fancy restaurant.

  The men, he forgot to mention, were heart-stopping, gorgeous men. The urge to lick my suddenly dry lips from nervousness was killing me. “This is Jacques Bertrand,” Dimitris introduced me to the French champion. Jacques was tall with sexy side-stubble, longhair that ended behind his neck, but it was worn back in a band, with tawny eyes and had all the makings of an ultimate playboy.

  “Good evening, ma belle,” Jacques greeted me the European way, kissing both cheeks.

  I was blushing furiously, but I didn’t have time to ponder since Dimitris was on to the next lothario. “This is Luca de Medici.”

  Luca was taller than Jacques by a few inches, had the most amazing chocolate eyes fringed with sooty, long lashes and a pair of killer dimples. I tensed when he kissed me the way Jacques did, but whispered something into my ear. “You smell wonderful, carina.” The Italian Casanova.

  “Lastly, this is the infamous Spanish Duke, Andrès Franco.” Dimitris gestured to the dark haired man with emerald green eyes.